Desert Storm
by woodbyne
Summary: Naga!verse. "What's a forest guy like you doing in a desert like mine?" A voice echoed from the shadows and Matthew was instantly on the alert. His muscles bunched and knotted; prepared to strike. "Show yourself! Rattler." Fled from his forest home, Matthew tries to find his way in the desert and finds Alfred instead. Mild Am/Can shipping.


**Happy Birthday, Hamburger Helper! I hope it's fantabulous!**

**Have some Nagaverse AmeCan. **

The warehouse was on the very outskirts of town, a solid concrete affair that had at some point in its life fallen victim to a fire. Its pale grey, cement outer was marred by back jets of soot, imprints of flames long past. Brick and mortar showed through where the building's shell had crumbled, leaving powdery red bloodstains on the ground.

Sandy coloured plants, full of thorns and tufts of hair sprouted from every available crevice, dead grass emerging from cracks in the pavement like dead spiders.

Something thick and heavy undulated through the sand made by worn-away concrete, a rough scrapping noise following in its wake. It was a warm day, for early spring, but though the sky was bright and clear, there was still the bite of snow in the air.

He shivered, muscles tensing and rippling, clenching and relaxing, swaying and flexing as he moved forward as quickly as he could, much though he would have loved to linger in the sun, the last thing he needed was to be seen.

Ducking into the open hanger door of the ramshackle building, he scented the air, Jacobson's organ tasting for food and predators.

"What's a forest guy like you doing in a desert like mine?" A voice echoed from the shadows and Matthew was instantly on the alert. His muscles bunched and knotted; prepared to strike.

"Show yourself!"

A low, resonant hiss filled the air reverberating off the walls and ceiling. It sounded like maracas; a thousand beads in a calabash gourd. The bottom dropped out of Matthew's stomach.

"Rattler," he hissed. Laughter greeted his statement and the shaking got louder, as though the building housed a swarm of bees. Under the maddening buzz was a dry scrapping sound. Something heavy being dragged across concrete.

A tall figure swayed into view, a man's abdomen twisting above a thick tail. The closer he drew to the light, the better Matt could see him. His rough scales were the same colour as the burnt building; pale grey overlaid with a lattice pattern of black. His scales looked like those of a pinecone, thick and ruffled, they carried on patchily up over his hips and around to his back. There was a band of dark scales that arced over his eyes, from one corner of his jaw to the other, forming a mask. The eyes were unusual; blue as the desert sky. And he was blond, which was really weird. It didn't make sense. It didn't blend with his camouflage. Oh, but it made him look dangerous.

"Very clever. Now answer my question. What's a copperhead like you doing in a place like this? Because, and I mean this in the most offensive way possible, you stick out like a pair of snakeskin boots," the rattler said coolly.

"People like forests. I don't like people; people don't like me. And as much as I like the woods, I value my scales," the copperhead answered with equal chill. They were reptiles after all.

"I didn't think you forest folk had that much sense in you," the grey snake laughed softly, his rattle buzzing in his mirth, "Name's Alfred; black-tailed rattlesnake," he held out a hand.

"Matthew; copperhead, like you said," the stranger greeted, his tongue flicking out to taste Alfred's scent.

"Fancy meeting another viper around here," Alfred's tongue followed suit.

"I certainly wasn't expecting to see anyone around this neck of the woods, so to speak," there was soft laughter in Matthew's voice, the faintest rustle of it, like scales through loam.

Alfred moved around the copperhead, his tail was shorter than Matthew's, but thicker, and with his scales looking like those of a dragon, much more impressive. True to his name, the tip of his tail was pure black. The rattler examined his visitor, slit-pupil'd blue eyes running over smooth, bronze coils, the Rorschach of deep rust-red over his tail and up his back. Unlike Alfred, whose scales were rough and faded into his skin one by one, Matthew's scales melded smoothly into human hide.

"Pretty thing like you won't last two days in this country," he said slowly, still circling, "Not without help."

"Spit it out, shakey," Matthew said uneasily, arching his back, ready to strike if necessary.

"Not my style," the rattler shook his head amusedly, "No. I prefer biting. Us vipers have to stick together, don't you think? There are plenty of hunters hereabouts, and we wouldn't want that pretty hide of yours on a lady's arm now, would we?"

"No," the copperhead didn't relax, which only made Alfred's lazy grin widen, his jaw unhinging almost threateningly, his fangs on proud display, "We wouldn't."

"Then how about," the desert dweller slithered over the coils of Matthew's tail, making himself shiver and the other hiss, fangs out in full force, "Don't get your tail in a kink, jeez. How about you stay here with me? You won't get seen at night and I won't be seen by day. The old place will be extra safe."

"You're insane," Matthew said shortly, "If you think I'm going to spend a second in your company that I don't have to."

Alfred's smile widened slowly, his unhinged jaw splitting his face quite literally in two. With a quirk of his eyebrow, he nodded at the gathering storm clouds, "Well, at the very least, you're going to have to spend the night. That storm will drown you if you stay out in it."

Hissing his displeasure at having trapped himself, Matthew slithered inside without actively complaining any further. Alfred's sibilant laughter and the muted buzzing of his tail ricocheted around the warehouse walls, "Come on, room-mate, the water won't reach up here," he said, once more slithering over Matthew and making the forest-dweller's scales stand on end, "It'll be a bit of a squeeze, but cosy."

Grimacing, the copperhead followed the rattlesnake up a loading ramp and to a raised platform. Corrugated iron sheeting had fallen over a corner of it, shielding it from the rest of the warehouse and making it a perfect snaky sleeping place.

"We can't both fit in there," Matthew baulked, not wanting to get that up close and personal with Alfred, not when his scales tickled the way they did.

"Course we can," the rattler said easily, curling into a loose coil in the space, sprawling over the floor, "Come on, or you're going to get rained on."

Warily, Matthew slithered into the alcove, looping his tail over and under Alfred's. The rattler's rough grey scales tickled him, making him shiver and hiss slightly. Something blunt butted against the copperhead's smooth metallic scales. Not daring to look, he ignored the low buzz and the heavy, rough-scaled muscles that undulated across his tail. Alfred nuzzled against Matthew's arm, his fangs showing in the dark, their tails were thoroughly intertwined.

"Night, Mattie," Alfred hissed, his tongue flickering out across the copperhead's shoulder. Another shiver ran down the length of Matt's body, making the rattle snake chuckle, "Let's see what morning brings us."


End file.
